


In Memoriam

by WhatHorse



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Stars, Young Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:33:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHorse/pseuds/WhatHorse
Summary: Sometimes the good memories hurt far more than the bad.
Relationships: God & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), God/Mother of Angels | Charlotte Richards, Lucifer Morningstar & Mother of Angels | Charlotte Richards
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction and I really just went for the angst. Hope you enjoy!

Lucifer’s siblings have always thought him too proud of his stars.  
And he supposes, to a degree, they are right.  
Taking a long swig of his whiskey, Lucifer lets the warm evening LA breeze ruffle his slightly unkempt hair. He stares up at the stars, distant and flickering, and remembers the pride that he had gained from gently braiding gases and setting them alight. The sense of achievement from the great burning balls of gas settles in his heart again, just like it did all those years ago.

However, a familiar ache pulls at his chest, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. 

This feeling is what his siblings will never know. 

This cold iciness that spreads through his limbs, making him shiver. The odd sense of longing that draws him forward, desperate to once again be up among the stars. The awful bitterness that slowly poisons him, his brain taunting him with memories of before.

The memories reach out their long cold hands, caressing his brain, and sink their talons into his mind, dragging him under. 

And suddenly, he’s that small fledgling angel again, worriedly pacing outside his Father’s door.

_Samael’s footfalls are small and faltering as he finally approaches his Father’s door. He releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, as he looks up to face the door. Father doesn’t like to be disturbed when He’s working, and Samael feels fear curl in his gut. He takes another deep breath and steels himself, straightening himself up to his full height of 4 feet . Mother had asked Samael to fetch Father for Her, and therefore, Father shouldn’t be upset with him. He reaches out his small hand and raps gently on the door, before retreating slightly, wringing his hands while he waits.  
“Enter,” calls his Father’s deep, rich voice from inside. Samael opens the door, tiptoeing into the room. Father’s workshop is a haphazard mess of objects strewn in odd piles around the room. On one side, ancient books and scrolls written in languages far predating Samael tip precariously, somehow managing not to fall over. Tools and other objects line the walls, hanging on hooks, and boxes of discarded creations take up the rest of any available floor space. The huge windows on the opposite wall to the door flood the room with dusky twilight, and light up the large table that sits centre stage in the room. The table seems to be the only surface in the room that is ordered. It is there that his Father is bent over tinkering with whatever new project has taken His fancy. Samael tucks his still downy wings tight to his body, in an attempt to avoid knocking over any priceless projects his Father has made and wanders a little further into the room. Huffing out another breath and straightening like he’s seen his older brothers do when formally addressing their Father, Samael begins his message.  
“Dad, Mum is requesting that you-“  
“Oh Samael, it’s you,” his Fathers voice interrupts, sounding pleasantly surprised. He looks up from His worktable, a small smile spreading across His dark face. Samael, shuffles his feet, looking up cautiously into his Father’s eyes.  
“Come over here, Samael. There is something I wish to show you.” His Father’s head turns back down to focus on the worktable, but His hand raises and beckons Samael over to the bench. Samael nods and begins to carefully manoeuvre his way around the piles of stuff around the door, his wings still tucked tightly into his back.  
“Tuck your wings away, little one, it will make it much easier,” says his Father, a bemused smile tugging at His lips as He surveys Samael’s awkward shuffle.  
Samael nods again and rolls his shoulders back as Raphael had taught him and feels his wings tuck away to wherever they go, when they’re not on his back. He clambers over to his Father far more easily. He reaches the bench, and stands on his tiptoes to try and see the worktable. His Father huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.  
“Draw up a stool so you may see, Samael,” his Father instructs. Samael complies and then joins his Father by the work bench.  
His big doleful brown eyes widen at the sight in front of him.  
His Father holds a beautiful shining light in His hand, shimmering and flickering brightly. As His Father holds it, He corrals more of the gases sitting on the workbench towards the ball of light. They slowly add to it, the light growing.  
“It’s beautiful,” Samael whispers, his eyes holding the light of the ball within them.  
“I call them stars,” his Father murmurs, His own eyes trained on the burning light as He manipulates it in His hands. “You may have seen some of them hung around Heaven,” He continues in the same soft voice.  
His Father lets the gases dissipate. The star stutters to a stop, too small to continue burning on its own.  
Samael’s heart aches at the loss of the beautiful bright light, a small part of himself feels lost. As the last few wisps of light fades, his Father’s gaze turns back to him, slightly pensive.  
“Would you like to help me make one?” his Father asks. There is a sliver of excitement on His face as He looks down at His son.  
Samael’s eyes widen and his mouth curls into a small disbelieving smile, but before he can accept, his eyes fall and the smile drops from his face.  
“You would let me help?” he asks in a small shaking voice. He looks up to meet His Father’s gaze to find Him wearing a look somewhere between confusion and disappointment.  
The disappointment digs into Samael’s sides and he quickly backtracks before his Father comes to the wrong conclusion.  
“I only meant, Dad, that Mum said I was much too young to be helping with your project. I do not wish to be in trouble for disobeying.” His Father’s smile returns, eyes filling with warmth.  
“I promise, Samael, that you will not be in trouble for assisting me with this. I intend, eventually, for this to be your task, when you are more grown. I only hope to teach you today. I will explain to your Mother if needed,” says his Father, ruffling Samael’s unruly black curls. A slightly mischievous look overcomes His face as He kneels down to Samael and whispers in his ear. “And, if we never tell Her, She’ll never need to know.” Samael lets out a giggle and nods his head at his Father, a smile once again illuminating his face. _

_His Father rises from the floor and moves to stand next to him. He positions himself so that his hands envelop each of Samael’s.  
“I’m just going to guide you, but you will be the one making the star, okay?” his Father whispers into his ear. Samael nods, turning his full focus to the table.  
“First we need to gather the gases…” his Father says and guides Samael’s hands to corral the molecules buzzing on the worktable. Samael bites his lip in concentration, following his Father’s movements with a care and patience he doesn’t have for anything else.  
“Good work, Samael. And then…” _

_After they finish, the small star in Samael’s hand is not as pretty as the one his Father had been working on originally. It does not shine as brightly, and instead flickers and sputters unstably, barely clinging to its fragile life. Samael frowns at it, his brow crinkling as the star continues to draw in just enough gases to keep itself burning.  
“It’s gorgeous, Samael,” his Father praises, beaming down at His son.  
“Really?” Samael asks, his eyes glittering with something dangerously close to hope.  
“It’s not as nice and bright as yours was,” he continues, scrunching his nose at the still sputtering star.  
“It is beautiful because you created it with love and wonder. The finer aspects you will refine as you grow,” his Father answers simply, coaxing the star from Samael’s hands into His own. Samael cannot help the proud smile that steals onto his face as he watches his Father cradle the star.  
“In fact,” his Father continues, as He now holds the star, “I think I shall hang it with my own.”  
His Father opens the window to the workshop and casts the star out into the skies around Heaven, where it settles with His own bright and shining stars. Samael thinks his chest might burst with warmth as he beams up at his Father. His Father wraps His arms around Samael, pulling him into a tight embrace.  
“Good job, little Lightbringer,” he whispers as they separate. Samael nods up at his Father, smile still plastered onto his face.  
A voice from the hallway breaks the moment between the two.  
“Samael? I thought I told you to send your Father to-“ his Mother's voice rings out as she enters the room. She stops short as Her eyes take in the scene before Her. Samael standing at his Father’s workbench next to his Father, stardust and gases scattered between them, the smell of burned hydrogen and helium that clings to the room. Not to mention the twin guilty looks that they share as they turn to Her. Her eyes narrow.  
“It’s alright, Wife. Samael did as he was told, I simply got distracted,” God says placatingly.  
“Has he been helping You? She asks sharply, Her eyes darting between the two with a knowing look on Her face. She seems to find the final piece of condemning evidence, for She follows up with a rather exasperated exclamation. “Husband! He is much too young to be assisting with Your projects!” his Mother says shrilly.  
“Samael, go play with your siblings. Your Mother and I have something to discuss,” God says gently to His son, using His hand to guide Samael towards the door. Samael frowns slightly, but does as he’s told. The sounds of an argument begin to unfold behind him and Samael feels guilt tug at his insides. He unfurls his wings and takes off in search of his siblings, casting a watery smile towards the little star shining brightly at him. ___

__His first star was long gone, but the others that were shining down on him, were still mocking him with its memory. Lucifer lets out an unwanted sob as he reaches up to rub away the tears that appear unbidden on his face. Lifting his glass to his lips, Lucifer gulps down the remaining whiskey, encouraging the burn down the back of his throat. He wants it to scorch these awful memories away. With an especially anguished cry, he slams his glass into the floor of the balcony, watching it shatter impressively. Taking a deep breath, he turns back towards the penthouse, burying the memories deep in the recesses of his mind._ _

__He remembers why he keeps them buried in the first place now.  
Sometimes the good memories hurt far more than the bad._ _


End file.
